


It’s Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas

by LaingLeigh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Because I needed a Dean and Mick bromance Mick needs hugs too Mick's road to redemption, Fix It Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 08:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaingLeigh/pseuds/LaingLeigh
Summary: Dean gives Mick the Christmas that he never had.





	It’s Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU HAVEN'T CAUGHT UP WITH SEASON 12 DON'T READ ANY MORE. IT CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS! 
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> I know it's only October but I needed to have a Mick and Dean Christmas fic. They're the bromance I needed and this is part of my Fix It Verse. You really don't have to read The Real McCoy but it helps. It's part of a 'verse I'm trying to build where Mick isn't dead along with a few others.

Mick smiled as he came down the bunker. “Nice touch,” 

Dean jumped. “Dammit Mick, ya scared the shit out of me.” 

“Sorry mate,” Mick apologized. “What is all this?” 

Dean went red. “I thought you wouldn’t be back for another few days.” 

“I wrapped up early,” Mick gave him. 

Dean whistled. “You are a quick study,” 

“How many times do I have to keep reminding you of that?” 

Sam was right about his big brother. Leaving Dean alone to his vices was a dangerous thing. In the time he was away, Dean managed to get the bunker all decked out. He strung up lights, exchanged the lamps for candles and even propped up a pre-lit tree in the corner. 

“It’s not decorated,” 

“I was waitin’ for you,” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“I heard ya didn’t really have much of a childhood or Christmas rather,” 

“No, not really,” Mick shared. “Usually my holidays were spent at the academy,” 

The thought of that brought back flashes of Timothy. Mick winched. Dean didn’t fail to notice. “Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything,” 

“It’s fine. Well, except for calling me dude,” Mick joked. Dean probably could get away with calling him anything. 

“I hear ya though,” Dean sympathized. 

“I know,” 

“Right, files and records,” 

Mick shrugged. He wondered how many times he could apologize for that. It was when he was with The Men of Letter. That was how they operated. 

“Look, water under the bridge,” Dean assured him. “You’re making up for it,” 

“Am I?” Mick questioned. 

“Yeah, look how many folks you’ve helped us save already,” The eldest Winchester pressed. 

It did bring him some satisfaction. He was still getting use to the swing of things. Working off the book without any rules, well, the freedom was accelerating. It gave him a rush. 

Dean offered him up a hot drink. “Here,” 

“Thanks,” 

Mick took it. The warmth of the mug was welcoming. It kept the cold of the late December at bay. He smirked at the dollop of whipped crème. He didn’t miss the hint of something strong mixed with the coco. 

“Brandy,” Dean piped up. 

“Wonderful, thank you,” He held up his mug. “Cheers,” 

Dean took a swing of his own. He chuckled when he saw the crèmetache.  
“You gotta a little,” Dean gestured with his thumb above his lip. 

“Oh, excuse me.” Mick fetched a napkin within reach. 

“Ya might be a quick study but you’re still learning,” Dean eyed the tree. “Ya up for helping me decorate?” 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” 

“And a little Sinatra never hurt anybody,” Dean got the stereo going. “That’s the only thing about Christmas that I really enjoy is we get the Crooners on the radio,” 

“So you like the drunk lounge singers,” Mick teased. 

“Watch it,” Dean said playfully. 

Sinatra covered Deck the Halls as they spread out the ordainments. “You want the honors?” Dean asked as he passed Mick the angel. 

“What? No trench coat?” 

“Har fucking har,” 

Mick needed to stretch a little. Dean helped adjusted it. “There,” Dean proclaimed. “Hold on,” 

The former Men of Letters watched as he flipped the switch. The bunker went dim. The lights gave off a soft glow. Then there was that hint of peppermint and pine that intertwined only to tickle his nostrils. 

“It seems I’ve missed a lot,” 

“We’ll help you make up for it.” Dean promised. 

“Where’s Sam?” 

“With a Eileen,” Dean answered with a smirk. “The best part is she didn’t have a clue,” 

He didn’t mention Cass. Cass was AWOL. Crowley was dead. His mom still stuck in a shit hole of an alternate universe. So Sam left him alone for the holidays. Save for the likes of him which he wasn’t sure that was worth much. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dean warned him. “I’m used to it.” He ignored him to fetch a present under the tree. 

“I must be slacking I didn’t see that,” Mick said. 

“That’s the point,” Dean said. “I know Christmas is still a few days away but we’ll call this a early gift,” 

“Dean, I don’t know what to say…” 

“Don’t say anything. Just open it.” 

Mick was feeling like a little kid again. Funny, how Dean Winchester had that effect on him. “Sam wrapped it,” 

“Shut up,” Dean barked. “It’s from the both of us,” 

It was held together by silver paper and tied up with a blue bow. Mick was almost scared to unwrap it. Almost. 

“It’s a 715 Dan Wesson Revolver,” Dean explained. “It’s part of their Elite Series. We got you some ammo for it too.”  
Mick blinked the tears from his eye. The worst part was he didn’t get Dean anything. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said. “Just keep doing what you do and that will be more than enough for me.” 

Mick nodded. He tucked away his new toy to play with it later.


End file.
